Hesitant, I get out with my luggage in tow and step onto the sidewalk, staring up at a building that looks nothing like the charming vacation rental I had envisioned.There’s certainly no cozy balcony overlooking the street.And where is the cute little café next door?
I take a deep breath and walk up to the building that matches the address printed on the paper in my trembling hand.There must be some sort of mix-up.I’m annoyed, but I suppose I can deal with a misrepresented place as long as there’s a bed and a shower with hot water.It’s not what I pictured, but it will have to do.I can email them to complain later.
I double-check my instructions.There should be a lockbox to the right of the door.
But there isn’t.
The urge to cry swells, clawing at my throat, my breaths coming out in frantic gasps.My skin flushes hot.
I’m so confused.
Desperately, I ring the only doorbell, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’m overlooking something.
Silence.
I take a step back and study my reservation, comparing it to the building in front of me.They look nothing alike; it’s like comparing apples to oranges.Nothing on this stupid piece of paper has anything to do with my booking.
This can’t be happening.
I can’t even turn on my phone without incurring astronomical charges.I’m furious with myself for forgetting to pick up a SIM card at the airport.And I could kick myself for not doing more research before handing over a large deposit.
Alone in an unfamiliar city and possibly scammed—great.
ChapterNine
JEMMA
How could I be so foolish?
Nothing good comes from spur-of-the-moment decisions.
I’m a planner for a reason.
I’m a researcher.
I’m a control freak.
This isn’t me.
If I had taken the time to plan this trip instead of acting impulsively, I would have done my due diligence and thoroughly researched every little detail.I would have noticed something was off with the listing and moved on to another option.But instead, I stupidly booked what seemed to be the ideal, picturesque accommodation, only to fall victim to a con artist’s clever scheme.That’s what you get when you decide to fly to Paris on a whim.
What was I thinking?
In a haze, I wander a few blocks before stumbling into the first hotel on my path.Someone opens the door for me, but I’m too distraught to even look up and thank them.I stroll through an elaborately decorated lobby, clutching my carry-on in one hand and pulling my suitcase in the other.My eyes quickly scan my surroundings, and my chin drops, leaving my mouth agape.If the high ceilings and fancy chandeliers weren’t enough of an indicator that this place is out of my price range, the floor-to-ceiling gold mirrors and the grand piano in the corner seal my assumptions.
I gulp, knowing I’ll have to fork over some serious cash for a room here.I should just turn around and leave, but it’s getting late, and I don’t know when I’ll come across another hotel.
My skin feels clammy, and I’m desperate for a shower.My shoulders ache from carrying my luggage, and my mind is racing as I try to figure out my next steps, even if that means catching a flight home tomorrow.No matter what, I need to regroup, and this might be the place to do it.
It’s only for one night.
I step forward, my black boots clicking against the marble floor as I approach the front desk, meeting the green eyes of the receptionist.“Bonjour,” I say, forcing a bright tone.
“Bonjour, madame.”The receptionist nods.“Comment puis-je vous aider?Avez-vous une réservation?”
My heart pounds in my chest.No, I don’t have a reservation.
“Um.Non,” I respond, shaking my head.
